


And After

by potentiality_26



Category: The Sisters Brothers (2018)
Genre: Afterlife, Canonical Character Death, Ficlet, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 04:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17953991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiality_26/pseuds/potentiality_26
Summary: He sat on a rock that overlooked the valley and said to himself, or more likely to the Hermann he couldn’t see- he wasn’t sure when thoughts he had always kept between himself and his notebook became thoughts for Hermann, but it was long before this, whatever this was, happened- “I do not believe I wanted to be your friend.”Maybe there is a better world, somewhere.





	And After

**Author's Note:**

> Fills my 100fandoms table prompt #20 (discover).

The world was an unfair place. John Morris knew that his whole life. He found himself perversely glad to get proof that it still was, that the laws he had always assumed governed the universe were not, in fact, rewritten in a heartbeat by a pair of brilliant dark eyes. No, it had just felt that way at the time.  
  
These thoughts flowered unbidden at the back of his mind, followed too-sluggishly by another, a question: how, precisely, was he capable of thinking at all? He could have sworn-  
  
He could have sworn-  
  
He could have sworn he was dead. There was pain, but it was gone now. There was anger too- not a few hours of it after the nightmare in the river. Years of it. Decades. A lifetime of anger that seemed… somehow… gone.  
  
He thought he heard Hermann’s voice then, an echo. His name, and something like, 'I wanted to be your friend.’ Something like, 'I wanted to help you.’ He looked for Hermann but didn’t see him. It was still a novelty that he could see at all. He saw trees and water, and the gold of the morning sunlight streaming through those trees and hitting that water, far more beautiful than any true gold to him, or it would be if he could see Hermann, see the sun on his skin, his hair, his eyes. But there was no one, or rather no one else. Neither people nor their constant companion, death. But was that what this was? Death?  
  
He sat on a rock that overlooked the valley and said to himself, or more likely to the Hermann he couldn’t see- he wasn’t sure when thoughts he had always kept between himself and his notebook became thoughts for Hermann, but it was long before this, whatever this was, happened- “I do not believe I wanted to be your friend.”  
  
“I believe I knew that,” Hermann replied, his voice clear now, an echo no more. “I thought it best not to say so in mixed company.”  
  
“Even dying?” Because they were dying. This must indeed be death.  
  
Hermann shrugged.  John could see him now, and feel him too. Sitting on the rock beside him, shoulder to shoulder. “Maybe I thought you knew.”  
  
“That you knew?”  
  
“That I did want to be your friend but also-” he found John’s hand folded in his lap and lifted it, laced their fingers together- “ _not_ your friend.”  
  
He had the sense that to hear that an hour ago would have been earth-shaking. Now it felt mostly warm, like the sunlight. He examined their entwined hands. “What do you make of this, then? As a scientist?”  
  
“Where we are right now, you mean? _What_ we are?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Science relies on what is known. On tests, on the evidence of our senses. The afterlife is inherently unknown. As a scientist, I have no idea. Yet.” He saw that light in Hermann’s eyes again, brighter than sunshine and sharper than steel, yet soft and sweet. It was _visionary_ , that light.  It was beautiful.  
  
“I suppose, then, that you intend to find out. As a scientist.”  
  
“Or, perhaps, as an explorer.” Hermann squeezed his hand. “Don’t you think that’s what you would have been? If you could choose all these years?  An explorer?”  
  
“I suppose so.” But, in that unfair world, he had not felt able to choose. But he loved the west, loved the mystery of the next rise and the wonder that might lie over it. Of course he had dreamed of a place and a time where that wonder could be bloodless. Of course he was always disappointed. Nothing was bloodless. It was silly, Hermann’s notion that they could make a fairer world. He had gone along with it because he loved him; he would go along with much more because he still did. But wherever they were and wherever they still had to go, he found he would _want_ to, very much.  
  
“Then-” Hermann tugged on their joined hands until they stood together- “which way should we go?”  
  
John pointed, toward the rising sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [dreamwidth](https://potentiality-26.dreamwidth.org).


End file.
